


Heavy and Hollow

by janvandyne



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, No Aftercare, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janvandyne/pseuds/janvandyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where does HYDRA end and SHIELD begin? That’s the question you must ask yourself when the Winter Soldier is sent to test where your loyalty truly lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy and Hollow

_“Cherchez la femme, Bucky. Remember that.”_  
\- James Elroy, **The Black Dahlia**

* * *

 

 _Вставай._  
_Wake up._  
  
You groan. You’re vaguely aware of a voice surrounding you, of your own body. Your arms feel numb and your legs heavy. You can’t open your eyes, can’t even find the will to. Someone is moving you, holding your chin in their hand and keeping you upright even though your head wants to loll forward.

 _Вставай._  
_Wake up._

You feel a sharp sting against your cheek, skin against skin. You try to talk, to ask what’s happening, but your voice is muffled. Your mouth is dry, the corners ache, and you’re faintly aware of the fabric gag tied around your head.

 _Вставай._  
_Wake up._

You finally manage to open your eyes, but everything is opaque and smoke hazy. _What happened?_ You weren’t compromised, weren’t even on a mission. You were at a gala for the small non-profit you worked for as cover.  One minute you were at the party, the next you weren’t.

 _Ты здесь не спать._  
_You’re not here to sleep._

What are you here for? And where is here?

You do your best to examine your environment, but it’s not without difficulty. Everything is still blurry and far away, and when you try to move your eyes, they feel swollen, sleepy. Your head is throbbing and the air seems thick, making you lungs feel too heavy for your chest.

You can’t concentrate. All you know is that you’re somewhere huge and dark, a warehouse most likely, abandoned, and there’s a man in black sitting on a decaying couch opposite of you. _The Asset. Fuck._

You give him your full attention. He doesn’t speak, but neither do you. You wouldn’t, even if you could from behind your gag. He’s staring at you while you stare at him, and you wonder at his cool composure.

You feel small and insignificant in this massive void. He seems to fit in, settled into the obscurity like a shadow person. He makes for a haunting image – immense and imposing, one arm resting on the back of the couch, covering the expanse of it from his place in the middle, his other hand casually folded over the curve of his knee. He’s relaxed, legs spread wide, feet planted flat on the ground. He’s a part of this place.

The only thing that seems anxious are his eyes. They’re intense, possessed, set straight ahead looking at you. You don’t know if he has even blinked yet. Have _you_? Your eyes feels dry, so you do, breaking the tie between the two of you. And that’s when he speaks.

_Они называют вас Черный георгин.  
They call you the Black Dahlia._

You’re taken aback. He knows you. He knows who you are. Of course he does, why else would you be here, tied to a chair and gagged? _He knows you,_ so there’s no point in lying. You nod your head, one small inclination, but he sees that as the affirmation that it was meant to be.

_подходящий. Вы похожи на цветок в этом платье.  
Fitting. You look like a flower in that dress._

He removes his arm from the back of the couch and leans forward, bridging the vacant space between the two of you, and places his hand on the black fabric covering your thigh.

_Это красивое платье.  
It’s a beautiful dress._

You try to move quickly, planting the ball of your foot on the couch cushion between his widespread legs to propel you and the chair back and away from his touch. But he’s too fast, reflexes too swift. He grabs your ankle then leaps his hand up to your knee, gripping it from underneath and pulling you closer to him.

The screech of wood against concrete echoes through the warehouse like nails on a chalkboard and you have to grit your teeth against the cloth in your mouth just so you can bare the sound.

You don’t even realize that you screamed.

It doesn’t affect him. He’s still calm, sedate. He doesn’t even seem angry at your outburst, and that is… unnerving. He doesn’t acknowledge it at all.

Your legs are in the space between his, and he grabs both of your knees and closes them hard. Your legs rattle where they hit, bone against bone. You’re alarmed at his strength, how a simple gesture from him can jar your entire body.

He doesn’t notice your shock. If he does, then he doesn’t respond to it. He just slides his palms up your thighs, tilting his body towards you even more. He kneads his fingertips in firm circles, staring at the place where his hands are massaging you, then slowly lets his eyes drift up your body until they reach yours.

_Я просто дал вам комплимент.  
I just gave you a compliment.  
  
Вы не собираетесь меня благодарить?  
Aren’t you going to thank me? _

You don’t know if this is some kind of test, if he expects you to somehow respond from behind your gag, so you just stare at him, confused but defiant. He stares back expectedly, fingertips stilling against your thighs.

In a heartbeat, he has a knife to your cheek, so swift that you didn’t even see him retrieve it. You jerk back, instinctual, but he palms the back of your head with his free hand and brings you back to him.

He tightens his hand in your hair to keep you still, runs the spine of his knife down your jaw, the sharp scrape of the point following along after it. He slides it straight up your cheek, tip first this time, and eases it under your gag.

_Прости меня. Ваш рот полон.  
Forgive me. Your mouth is full._

He flicks his wrist and the fabric is loose. He pulls it away and drops it on the floor. You’re finally able to breathe, to move. You breathe in harsh gasps, not only from the lack of air, but from the overwhelming fear. The man is looming over you now, your cheeks cradled in both of his hands, knife still clutched in one, precariously close to your face.

He’s running his thumbs over the sore corners of your mouth, rubbed raw from the gag. There’s a tenderness to it, a mock concern, like he’s not the one who tied you up in the first place.

_Не двигайтесь. Дайте-ка подумать.  
Hold still. Let me see. _

It’s demeaning, his soft tone, his gentle touch. Confusing. You try to turn you head, twisting it back and forth to shake him from you, but he’s following you with his hands.

“Stop,” you plead, your voice coming out as pathetic and helpless as you feel. “Just stop.”

And surprisingly, he does.

He stands up to his full height and you have to tilt your head all the way back to look at him. He towers over you, tall and too big for your comfort. Even if you got loose, you wouldn’t be able to fight him off. He has you, trapped, and you have no idea _why._

_Вы не собираетесь меня благодарить?  
Aren’t you going to thank me?  
  
Для хваля вас и ваше платье?  
For complimenting you and your dress?_

You try to calm your breathing, your heart pounding in your chest. You’re shaking, scared, wondering where you strength has gone. You wish he would be angry or rough, to give you something to fight against. But this cold composure leaves you suspended somewhere between horror and bewilderment.

The man walks around you, cool metal fingertips dragging against your bare shoulder. He stops behind you, and you can barely see the shadow he casts for the darkness of the room, but he’s close.

“What do you want?” you ask. “What do you want from me?”

_Это не допрос.  
This isn’t an interrogation.  
  
У меня уже есть информация , что мне нужно.  
I already have the information that I need._

He has both hands on your shoulders, massaging them in his palms. You don’t know when he sheathed his knife, but you do know that it’s not too far away. You don’t move. You try not to even breathe. You don’t hear him as he leans down, but you do feel his warm breath against your skin, lips brushing your ear.  
  
_Я знаю, что вы могли бы сделать что-нибудь для миссии._  
_I know you’d do anything for the mission._  
  
_У вас есть лояльность. Рвение служить.  
You have loyalty. An eagerness to serve._  
  
Но некоторые люди задаются вопросом , где что лежит лояльность.  
_But some people are questioning where that loyalty lies._  
  
You gasp, trying to find the words to articulate all of the questions that are running through your head, but he covers your mouth with his hand before you can speak. His lips are still beside your ear and, although his voice is low and rough, he is startlingly soft-spoken.  
  
_Вы знаете, вы убили некоторых из моих людей?  
You know, you’ve killed some of my men?  
  
Задержанные другие.  
Arrested others._  
  
One of his hands slide up your neck, cool fingertips against your flesh, and buries itself in your hair. He caresses your scalp, giving your hair a tug with every downstroke. He does that for a moment, allowing you to relax before he pulls, jerking your head to the side and baring the long column of your neck to him.  
  
You cry out from behind his palm, from both the shock and the pain. He removes his hand from your mouth and puts it on your throat, a pale pressure just tight enough to turn your breaths short and shallow. He nuzzles his nose behind the hinge of you jaw. It’s so delicate compared to the prickling pain in your scalp, the hint of a threat against your throat. Your thoughts are muddled, messy. You feel helpless and lost.  
  
He speaks again, this time more firm.  
  
_Где HYDRA конец и SHIELD начать?_  
_Where does HYDRA end and SHIELD begin?_  
  
“I don’t know who sent you,” you manage choke out. “But you are way off your mark, Soldier.”  
  
He lets you go, both neck and hair, and walks back in front of you. He sits down on the couch, forearms resting against his thighs as he angles himself forward. You straighten your back against the chair, trying to get as much distance between the two of you before you continue.  
  
“Obviously you know _who_ I am, _what_ I do,” you say, still trying to gasp for air. “If I wouldn’t have retaliated I would have gotten killed, or at the very least blown my cover. I was told to complete my assignment by any means necessary and if a few of your men were untrained enough to get caught in the crossfire, then I’m not the one to blame.”  
  
_Вы, кажется убедительным._  
_You seem convincing._  
  
“It’s the truth.”  
  
_Не достаточно убедительными._  
_Not convincing enough._  
  
He reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You can’t move back anymore so you just let him do it. He seems pleased. He moves from the couch to take a knee by the side of your chair. His actions are graceful, so swift that you don’t even flinch.  
  
_Вы знаете, почему я здесь?  
_Do you know why I’m here?_  
  
_ You turn your head to the side to look at him. Does he expect you to answer? When you don’t, he brings out the knife again, just as smooth as before. You whip your head forward, but keep him in your periphery. _  
  
_Для того, чтобы напомнить вам о том, кто вы служите.  
_To remind you of who you serve._  
  
__ He cuts your wrists from their bonds. As soon as you know that you’re free, you’re up. You place one foot on the ground, the other on the couch so that you can jump over the back of it. You hear the familiar sound of wood against concrete and before you can take that final leap, hands are back in your hair and you are crashing down to the floor.  
  
You land on the hard cement knees first. Your body stiffens from the impact, and you know that your knees will be bruised and bloody when this is over. You claw at the hand in your hair, but it’s metal and unyielding. He drags you to the couch where he sits then settles you on the ground in front of him.  
  
The pounding pain in your knees have tipped you over the edge of terror. Frantically, you place your hands on his own knee, begging. He slides his shin between your legs, his boot underneath you, and brings your head to rest on his thigh. You’re facing his crotch and that’s all you can see. You can only imagine where this is headed and you feel hot tears pool at the corners of your eyes. __  
  
_ У вас есть репутация._  
 _You have a reputation.  
  
_ He lets go of the grip on your hair and starts to pet you, smoothing the wild tresses down against your scalp. You inhale a shuddering breath as your whole body trembles.  
__  
_Вы умный, способный, смертельно опасны.  
You are intelligent, capable, deadly.  
  
Боялись теми, кто знает название Черный георгин.  
Feared by those who know the name ‘Black Dahlia.’  
  
___ “Please,” you beg, and you don’t even say anything about letting you go, can’t form any other words but pleasepleaseplease, lips rubbing against the rough canvas of his pants  
___  
Но вот вы, на коленях.  
Yet here you are, on your knees.  
  
___ He jerks your head back by the roots of your hair and you cry out at the sore, stinging pain. He forces you to look up at him, his bright blue eyes piercing into yours, holding you in place. _ _ _  
  
Ничего, кроме увядание цветка.  
Nothing but a wilting flower.  
  
Со слезами на глазах.  
With tears in your eyes.  
  
И мой ботинок против вашего влагалища.  
And my boot against your cunt._  
  
__ You gasp at his words, cheeks reddening in humiliation and shame. He lets go of your hair and looks down at you at something akin to pity, seemingly sincere if you didn’t know that this was all a sick game to him. He tries to stroke your hair again, but you pull back. _ _  
__  
“Fuck you! If you think for one second –“  
  
Your head snaps to the side as he slaps you. His palm connects with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse alongside your pitiful cry. For a brief moment, neither of you move, but then you spit the blood from your mouth onto the floor and stiffly turn back to face him.  
_  
_ You gather yourself, raise your chin, and although it is with less conviction, you start to repeat what you were saying before.  
  
“If you think –“  
  
But he slaps you again, this time so hard that you fall to the side and have to catch yourself on your palms. You try to breathe, but nothing comes out but a sob. The tears you were trying to hold back are spilling down your cheeks. You try to crawl away, hands and knees, but he’s hauling you up, sitting you on his lap so that you’re straddling one of his thighs.  
  
A gun in its holster is digging into the side of one of your knees. The other one is nestled up snug against the man’s crotch. He brings your wrists behind your back and holds them together in his metal hand. Then, with the other, he captures your jaw, running a thumb across your mouth and smearing the blood on your lips. _ _  
  
_Сегодня вечером будет унизительным опытом._  
_Tonight is going to be a humbling experience._  
  
__ You hiccup in a harsh breath. Tears are still running down your cheeks in long, uneven paths. You feel helpless, hopeless. You were trained to survive any life and death situation imaginable, yet you can’t seem to fight your way out of this. You’re already defeated.  
  
The man’s hand leaves your face and grabs your hip. He moves you back and forth, then back again. You feel the rough material of his pants rub against your naked core and you realize what he’s doing.  
  
“No,” you plead. “No, you can’t do this.”  
  
But you’re not fighting it as he manipulates your hips, sliding your cunt and clit against his thigh in short, slow passes. You’re pliable, easily moved, useless as putty in his hands.  
  
He pulls on your wrist, making your shoulders roll back and breasts arch forward. Your head falls back too, exposing the long line of your neck. He runs his hand from your hip up the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, and settles his palm on your throat.  
  
With him not moving you, you’re just sitting on his thigh. You feel a slick wetness beneath you spreading out along the man’s pants and you know that the fabric is soaked through. You feel embarrassed, ashamed that your body has betrayed you.  
__  
_Трахни себя на мое бедро.  
Fuck yourself on my thigh._  
  
__ “No!”  
  
You don’t want to hump his leg like a dog. You have more dignity than that. But he lets go of your wrists and, with him not holding you back, you fall forward, catching yourself with your hands on his shoulders. He rips the bodice of your dress down and takes a nipple in his fingers, pinching it until you yelp in pain and dig your fingertips into his flesh. __  
  
_Удовольствие самостоятельно.  
Pleasure yourself._  
  
__ You let out a sob, but start moving your hips anyway. Slowly, at first, and when you do, he lets go of your throat and cups your face in his palm. His other hand goes to your waist.  
  
Your cheek hurts and your scalp hurts and your nipple and your throat, all from his hands, and he has the nerve to touch you gently, the barest brush of his fingertips against your cheek.  
  
You move your face away from his hand, but start grinding down on his thigh harder, placating him about that at least. It’s a slick slide now. Your cunt is wet and so are his pants. You close your eyes and try to forget yourself, lest the shame creep up your spine and choke you until you can’t breathe again.  
  
You focus on the friction against your clit, the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach. There’s hands on your hips and they could belong to anyone when your eyes are closed. They’re big and strong, moving along with your body as your roll your hips. _ _  
  
_Посмотри на меня.  
Look at me._  
__  
You don’t realize that you’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck until he pulls you back. His hand creeps up your back and grabs on to your hair, pulling you away from him with a loud gasp.  
  
“No, no, no,” you moan as you feel your orgasm approaching quickly. __  
  
_Да.  
Yes.  
___  
His eyes are intent on yours and you can’t look away. You stare at him and he stares back, his face impassive except for his parted lips. He pushes you towards him so that your forehead is pressed against his. ___  
  
Оргазм для меня.  
Come for me. _  
  
__ Your breath hitches and your legs tighten around his thigh. You try to stifle a moan, but it just comes out as a whimper. Your whole body convulses and you can’t help yourself from coming. He helps you through it, moving your hips with his hand, pushing his leg up to give you more friction against his thigh.  
  
When you come down, you realize that you’re now cheek to cheek, his hand palming the back of your head. You know you’re breathing heavy in his ear, but you don’t care. You’re weak and ashamed. You’d rather stay pressed against him than face him, but even that doesn’t last long. _ _  
  
_Встаньте._  
_Stand up._  
__  
You pull back and get up on shaking legs. You stand in front of him, between his knees. He grabs hold of either side of the slit on your dress and pulls, tearing it from the seam to the top of your bodice. It falls in a heap on the ground around your feet and now you’re naked in front of him.  
  
He doesn’t say anything, just leans forwards and puts his metal fingertips against your stomach, right below your bellybutton. He runs them up your torso, the space between your breasts, then to your throat. His other hand comes up to the opposite side of your neck, but he doesn’t put any pressure on it. He just slides them back down, this time across the hard peaks of your nipples, and over the plain of your stomach again. _ _  
  
_Повернись._  
_Turn around._  
  
__ Reluctantly, you turn, bare feet shuffling against the concrete floor. His hands start at your shoulders this time, feather light touches against your shoulder blades, then hands on either side of your spine, following the soft expanse of your back downwards. His palms press into the curve above your ass, fingers splayed outward, thumbs inward, to grip your waist.  
  
You groan as he presses in the heel of his palms, tense muscles yielding under his touch. Your legs falter for a moment, but he keeps you upright, hands against your back, thumbs turning small circles on either side of your spine. __  
  
“Soldier?”  
  
_Тихо._  
_Quiet._  
  
__ His hands continue on their path, moving down to grip your ass, fingertips sinking into your flesh. He kneads your cheeks with firm motions, then runs his thumbs down your crack, spreading your cheeks to expose your hole.  
  
You let out a gasp and make to move away, but his metal arm catches you around the middle to pull you back. You feel his cheek come in contact with your back, hot skin against yours, then rough stubble grazing over the swell of your ass. His other hand is still gripping one of your cheeks and he turns his head to sink his teeth into the other.  
  
You cry out, but don’t move otherwise. He moves back, releasing your from his grasp, so that you’re completely free from his touch. You still don’t move, but you can hear the sound of rustling fabric behind you, and metal against metal, him moving against the couch, then everything is still once more. __  
  
_Обернитесь и встать на колени ._  
_Turn around and kneel._  
__  
You do as you’re told. You turn towards the man then sink down to your knees between his legs. The first thing you focus on is his dick in his hand, thick and hard and curved slightly in toward his stomach. You rock back to get off of your knees, but his other hand comes to your shoulder to keep you down.  
  
He’s stroking his dick with long, languid pulls of his flesh hand. His other is creeping up your neck from its previous place on your shoulder. He hasn’t taken off any clothes, just opened his pants to take out his cock.  
  
You’re shaking, from the cold and from the anticipation of what’s to come. You dig your fingernails in your knees to ground yourself, to keep your mind on the pain here in the present and not your inevitable fate.  
  
He slides his hand into your hair and tighten the strands in his fist. He guides you forward and places your cheek high on his thigh. His dick is right in front of your face. He strokes his dick one last time before holding the tip in his fist and shifting so that your lips are pressed against the base of his hot shaft. __  
  
_Открой рот, маленький цветок_  
_Open your mouth, flower._  
  
_Открой рот и сосать мой член._  
_Open your mouth and suck my cock._  
  
__ You try to pull back but his hand is insistent in your hair. He moves your head up, dragging your mouth along the length of dick before tapping the head against your lips. Your hands curl against his knees as you try to push yourself away, but he doesn’t relent. You turn your head, but that only makes your rub your face against his cock, leaving a wet trail of precome across your cheek _ _  
  
_Ты не так предан , как я был водить верить.  
_You’re not as devoted as I was led to believe._  
  
_Но_ _вы будете , с обучением.___  
_But you will be, with training.__

He gives you a few warning pats to your cheek with his open hand, much softer than before, but you still wince. You can feel a bruise forming and the inside of your cheek is still slowly leaking blood. You tentatively part your lips and angle your head down so he can slide the head of his cock into your mouth. Above you, he moans.

 _Хорошая девочка._  
_Good girl._  
  
_Можете ли вы принять больше?_  
_Can you take more?_  
  
Both of his hands are in your hair and he shifts his hips up so that he can slide more of his cock in your mouth. He pulls back then thrusts forward again, fucking your mouth with his dick. He does it again and again, getting deeper with every thrust until he pushes your head down, forcing you to take his full length.

You try to relax, but you still gag around his dick. He pulls your head back and runs his eyes over your face. Your eyes are tearing up and your lips are spit-soaked, saliva dripping down your chin. You turn your head in his slackening grip and wipe your mouth off against your shoulder, the only act of defiance that you can pull off while so obviously under his control.

He lets go of your hair and places his hands on his thighs. He stares at you and you see the infinitesimal curl at the corners of his lips, the beginning of rusty smirk that makes him look dauntingly human. You rather him remain a ghost, a monster, something you can explain away after he is through with you. This, him like _this_ , makes your situation seem all too real.

 _Соси мой член ._  
_Suck my cock._  
  
There are no hands in your hair this time, nothing physical forcing your head down and mouth back onto his dick. Before, you could blame it on him, what he _forced_ you to do. But now, with your own hands around his cock, your mouth sucking on the tip, you can only blame yourself.

You know you don’t want this. That you’re under duress, that coercion is more than just physical. But you also know that every time you look in the mirror it will be a reminder of when you were on your knees in this abandoned warehouse, dirty and naked, with the Winter Soldier’s cock between your lips

He thrusts his hips up, forcing more of his dick into your mouth. Your throat flutters around him, but your hands around his shaft stop his dick from getting too far. He grabs your wrists and holds them down against his thighs before pushing his hips up again.

 _Глубже._  
_Deeper._

You force your head down, trying to get as much of his cock in your mouth as you can. It’s a slow, wet slide, but you finally take it all, lips around the base of his dick and nose pressed against his skin. He groans and you begin to pull back, but his hold on your wrists tighten.  
  
_Оставаться._  
_Stay._  
  
You do as he says. You stay down, keeping your mouth full of his dick as you try to calmly breathe through your nose. Saliva is creeping out of the corners of your lips and your eyes are closed tight. You feel like you’re like this for hours, until your feel like you can’t breathe anymore and you start to panic.

He lets go of one of your wrists and pulls you up by your hair. You gasp once his dick is out of your throat, chest heaving as you try to bring oxygen back into your lungs. Your mouth and chin are wet with saliva. Your eyes are stinging with unshed tears, but you will them not to fall. You sit back on your heels and he watches you catch your breath while languidly stroking his hard dick.

Once you’re calm, you look up at him, waiting for whatever is next. He takes his hand off of his dick and cups your cheek with his palm, smearing saliva and precome across your skin. You try to turn your head away, but he catches you by the back of your neck and pulls you forward.

 _Получить на диване. Становиться на колени._  
_Get on the couch. Kneel._  
  
“No!” you growl. “This is enough!”

He grabs you around the middle and effortlessly picks you up. He throws you on the couch, knees hitting the cushions and hands coming out in front of you to brace themselves against its back. He ends of standing behind you, palms huge and heavy around your hips.  
  
_Достаточно?_ _  
_Enough?__  
  
_Ваше влагалище не считает его достаточно._  
_Your cunt doesn’t think it’s enough._  
  
He slides his hands down to your ass and spreads your cheeks apart, putting your wet pussy on display. You think about kicking your leg back, hitting him in the jaw or throat. But even if you did get away, how far would you get? He’s impossibly strong, swift, faster than you even with his extra bulk. You wouldn’t make it far.  
  
_Если бы вы могли видеть, как вы капает._  
_If you could see how you’re dripping._ _  
_

_Бедра сверкающими, дрожа ._  
_Thighs glistening, quivering._

You tremble as you feel his warm breath against your core. He doesn’t touch it, though. Instead, he moves lower, tongue coming out to lick a hot path up your inner thigh. He moans, open mouthed against your skin, all while kneading your ass cheeks in his palms.  
  
_Вы вкус замечательный, маленький цветок._  
_You taste wonderful, little flower._  
  
_Так влажный и сладкий._  
_So wet and sweet._

 _Готовы ли вы к моему члену ?_  
_Are you ready for my cock?_

You shiver as he speaks. You knew this was coming, but you’re not ready. You feel him against your core, the long, thick line of his shaft sliding against your folds. Your clit pulses in anticipation and you want to jump out of your skin. You despise your traitorous body, but your mind is still clear.

“No,” you plead. “No, please, don’t."  
  
_Нет?_  
_No?_  
  
_Ваше влагалище не говорит нет._  
_Your cunt isn't saying no._  
  
_Ваша сладкая пизда хочет быть трахал ._  
_Your sweet cunt wants to be fucked._ _  
  
_ You tense as you feel the sharp point of his knife against the back of your neck. Slowly, he runs it down the curve of your spine, the stinging scratch of it no doubt leaving a raised mark in its wake. He moves it down your tail bone and you gasp as it catches on the rim of your asshole. He trails a path down your perineum, lighter than before but it makes you no less terrified.

He slides the tip of the knife into your cunt, just barely, but enough for you to understand the implications of his actions.  
  
“Please!” you cry out. “Please, I want –“ _  
_

_Какие?_  
_What?_ _  
  
_Что вы хотите, маленький цветок ?_ _  
__What do you want, little flower?_  
  
_ “I want your cock,” you whisper.  
_  
_Скажи это снова. В моем языке._ _  
__Say it again. In my tongue._  
  
_Заставь меня поверить в это._ _  
__Make me believe it.__

“Please,” you beg, your Russian rusty but good enough for this. “Please, fuck me. I want your cock.”  
  
He sheathes his knife and grabs your shoulders, making you lift up and balance on your knees. He presses up against you, his leather covered chest against his bare back. You feel his hard dick against your ass, the heat of it almost scalding.  
  
He moves his hands from your shoulders down your back and under your arms to grab your breasts. He teases your nipples, pinching and pulling them into hard peaks, until your hips involuntarily buck back against him.He growls in your ear and takes a step back, making you fall forward without him there to anchor you. _ **  
  
**_На спине. Раздвинь ноги._  
_On your back. Spread your legs._ **  
  
**_ You lay down on the dirty couch and part your thighs. He quickly moves between them, lifting one of your legs to drape over his shoulder and wrapping the other one around his hip. You tense as he takes his cock in his hand, running the tip across your wet cunt. 

You arch your back and squeeze your eyes shut as he slides inside of you. He’s so thick and incredibly hard and fills you up completely. You’re panting when he’s finally all the way inside of you, trying your hardest not to make any other noise. 

He starts off slow, rolling his hips to fuck you in long, deep strokes. He finds a rhythm and gradually starts thrusting harder. His hands are wrapped around your thighs and he’s pulling you towards him, making your body meet every snap of his hips.

You hate yourself for thinking it, but his cock feels so fucking good. The curve of his dick is making the tip rub up against that spot inside of you that makes your legs quiver. You’re almost ready to let yourself go, to surrender to him and let him take whatever else he wants.

He leans down to cover your body with his own, pushing your thigh against your chest. He presses his face into the crook of your neck and you cry out as he bites down. He soothes over the mark with a swipe of his tongue, then moves down to your shoulder and does it again.

He nips a trail across your collar bone, sucks a bruise into the hollow of your throat. He scatters kisses across your breast, pulls at your nipple with his teeth. He’s marking you up. Evidence of him owning your body will still be with you, long after he’s gone. The bruises and bites, the lacerations, your bloody knees, the gravel embedded into your soles and palms, they’ll all be with you tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.

The way he’s angling his body makes his pelvis push against your clit. He isn’t even thrusting into you anymore, just grinding his hips into your thighs, keeping you full of his cock. Your arms wrap around his waist to keep him snug against you as you roll your hips up to put more pressure on your aching clit. You’re biting your lip hard enough that you’re sure it’s going to bleed.

He pulls back, just barely, so that he can look at you. He grabs your chin in his palm, presses the pads of his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks and makes you open your mouth. All the noises you were holding in spill out, and the empty space around you is echoing with your moans. He meets your moan with one of his own and drops his forehead to your collarbone before looking up again.

 _Пойдем со мной._  
_Come with me._  
  
_Приходите на мой член.  
Come on my cock._

You cry out as your body stiffens. Your legs tighten around him and your nails dig in to his lower back. You reach your release alongside him, clenching and coming around his cock as he fills you up with his come. He buries his face into your throat, whispering words in English that you can barely hear until his hips slow, then stop. 

Your leg slides off of his shoulder and comes to rest on the couch beside him, your other one still wrapped around his waist. His slides a cheek across your chest, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin, and nuzzles his face in the valley of your breasts. You both groan as he slowly slides out of you, but he continues to move, standing up from the couch and tucking himself back in his pants.

He turns his back to you and runs a hand through his messy hair. He takes a few steps away and you just close your eyes and curl into yourself on the couch. You don’t know what he’s doing, he walks so light, but you know that he’s still there. 

“ _Soldat…_?” you call out tenderly, holding your hand out to beckon him over to you again.

He could never understand your need to be close to him after nights like this. He could never understand why you want him skin against skin, to hold him and to rest before he disappears. He could never understand why you want _him_ and you suppose he never will. But he still comes when you call, gently pulling you so that you’re sitting up on the couch.

He takes a knee in front of you, places his palms on your cheeks and presses his mouth against yours. His lips are warm and soft, moving delicately against yours as if he was waking you from a dream. You bury your fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, massaging circles into his scalp until he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

 _Мой прекрасный маленький цветок .  
My beautiful little flower. **  
**_  
Your arms fall back down to your side as he stands up. He presses a fleeting kiss to your forehead, then turns around and slips noiselessly into the shadows.

You don’t know how you can feel both heavy and hollow at the same time, but you do. You feel ripped open and pulled out of your body, rearranged then pushed back inside with pieces missing, scattered, secretly placed in his pocket so that a part of you will be with him.

You look down at the ruined remains of your dress. There’s nothing you can do about that. But he’s left clothes, as he often does, a dark stack of fabric folded neatly on the chair that you were in before. You stand up on shaking legs to retrieve the bundle so you can dress and leave. Something falls softly onto the floor as you slide the clothes off the chair and you can’t help but smile as you pick up the gift he left you.

A single black dahlia.


End file.
